


of winged birds

by she_who_hears



Series: the blood of the covenant [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred is a savage, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, FLUFF AND PHYSICAL AFFECTION, Gen, Romani Dick Grayson, WOOT 15 PAGES ON GOOGLE DOCS ALHAMDULLILAH, bruce is like 26 akfanfna rip, bruce is so awkard help this poor man, bruce throwing himself at dicks feet: what must i do to lighten your burdens, bruce vs toasters: who will win, bruce:lol im not a dad-, bruces exaggerated hatred of hal is literally the funniest thing to me, can u tell hes my fave, dick is...baby..., dick was blessed by the heavens with cuteness, dick: :(, dont take the ages srsly theyre all a vague description of the time period, ethical billionaire bruce wayne who wants to rehabilitate the rogues, i just realized i spelled awkward wrong oh no :(, jim highkey knows bruce is batman but wont say anything, jim is the true hero of gotham city, ooc bc THERE IS SO MUCH FLUFF, pacings whats that i only know fluff and bad jokes, srsly he is a beautiful child and i love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:24:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_hears/pseuds/she_who_hears
Summary: Bruce Wayne embarks on an eye-opening journey of parenthood while receiving parenting advice of those more qualified than him.





	of winged birds

**Author's Note:**

> pacing i dont know her  
> anyways enjoy more of my sweet baby dickie and clueless dad bruce (ALSO do you all know how,,,difficult it is to write sentences when one of the characters is l i t e r a l l y named dick???? i had to switch his name several times bc the sentence was objectively funny and it ruined the ~ambience~ grrr >:(

The first sign, Bruce dismissed as children being children. ****  
** **

“Dick,” he scolded at the small child who _would not go to sleep so he could go to patrol without sad baby eyes looking up at him._ ****  
** **

Dick flopped onto the soft covering. “I can’t,” he giggled at Bruce’s strained face, for he knew he was simply too cute for Bruce to seriously reprimand. Bruce huffed, and reclined next to the child, absentmindedly brushing back the dark curls with his hand. ****  
** **

“I’ll read you _one_ more story, chum,” he promised, knowing in his heart of hearts that Dick would somehow slip out of the agreement. He would run W.E. perfectly Bruce mused, and felt proud at the chaos that would follow. Dick cheered, grabbing Zitka off from the floor and clutching it to his chest, looking like a rosy cheeked angel instead of the feral child Bruce knew he was. ****  
** **

“And then I’ll leave.” For half a second, Dick’s wide smile faltered, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. He bounced back quickly, crawling into Bruce’s lap and clutching his arm. “Read the green book.” ****  
** **

“This is in Gaelic? Why do you have a Gaelic fisherman’s pamphlet, you’re seven? Where’s Barney?” ****  
** **

The novel was actually part of a game they played. Often, they would go days solely speaking in foreign languages, as Dick had grown up in the circus. Both decided to learn Gaelic for shits and giggles. So far Dick could count to fourteen, and Bruce could recite an ebullient sea shanty. ****  
** **

Not too long after, Bruce realized that Dick had fallen asleep right on top of him, and if Bruce were to move, he would wake up the boy he tried so hard to put to sleep. Batman, the World’s Greatest Detective had found his match; a seven year old acrobat who could flip four times in a row but refused to tie his own shoes. ****  
** **

Bruce thinks he sees a hint of a smile on the boys lips. _Little shit_ , he thinks fondly, as he promises to work harder tomorrow and settled in beside the bird.

* * *

“Mr. Wayne?” Pop Haly goggled. ****  
** **

The sheepish form of the billionaire nodded, cloaked in a heavy coat despite the deep heat. ****  
** **

Haly scratched his head. “Aren’t Gotham and Karachi over 7,000 miles apart?” ****  
** **

“I am very rich,” Bruce explained, placing his hand on Haly’s desk. He miscalculated and accidentally slipped off, stumbling slightly. The room was silent. Bruce cleared his throat, and then cleared it again. He broke off in a mini coughing fit, in front of Haly’s eyes. ****  
** **

“Is this about little Dickie?” Haly asked, leveled and measured, as Bruce frantically chugged a bottle of water. Bruce gagged. ****  
** **

“Where’s this water from?” ****  
** **

“The stable outside.” ****  
** **

Bruce’s inner rich boy was repulsed. “And yes, it is actually about Dick.” Bruce licked his lips. “I think he’s homesick. Circus homesick.” ****  
** **

Haly’s eyes grew sad. He sat down at his desk, holding a picture frame of seven years ago, of him grinning and holding a small, pink baby, with downy black hair. “Well,” he began,”if he’s circus-sick then we’re Dickie-sick.” ****  
** **

Bruce sat down across from him. “It’s a big move for him. And Haly’s can’t visit most of the time. He misses his old life, and I don’t know if I can make it better for him.” ****  
** **

Haly hummed. “You know, Dickie was the first baby in the circus in a long, long time. Everyone was obsessed with him. We all spoiled him to the grave. Did you know he was a breech baby? He’s been fighting since the womb, that Grayson.” Haly quieted. “He wasn’t just John and Mary’s. He was everyone’s baby. When we lost them, we lost him, too. We only ever wanted him safe.” ****  
** **

“If any of you find any free-time,” Bruce started, ”I’m more than willing to fund visits.” ****  
** **

“We couldn’t ask you—” ****  
** **

“I could literally buy Haly’s circus ten times over and it wouldn’t even come close to my weekly paycheck.” ****  
** **

Haly still didn’t look convinced. “Do it for _Dick._ The poor child lost more than his parents, he lost his _family_ . You all.” ****  
** **

Haly smirked. “Well then, I hope you’ll be paying for the entire circus then.”

* * *

The second sign was a bit more noticeable, but he dismissed it once more. ** **  
****

“Dick, _please_ let go of my leg.” Bruce attempted to shake off the little lump clutching onto his pressed trousers to little avail. Dick shook his head and held tightly, like a baby lemur to its mother. ****  
** **

“Nooooo, don’t _leaveeeee_ ,” Dick whined. Bruce groaned.  ****  
** **

“Chum, it’s an important meeting. You’ll be bored, it’s just gonna be me talking about adult things and taxes and like, capitalism stuff.” In all honesty it was just gonna be Bruce trolling the very white, very imperialistic board of directors for 67 minutes straight. ****  
** **

Dick raised his big, blue eyes, and reluctantly stood up. “I’m practically a grown man anyway.” Bruce scoffed. No grown man had pudgy cheeks and a Batman nightlight. ****  
** **

“Uh, yeah right. You’re a baby.” ****  
** **

“I’m not a baby!” Dick retorted, scrunching up his tiny nose. ****  
** **

“Yeah, sure. Careful, I think your Pampers are showing.” ****  
** **

“Bruce!” Dick yelled, and stomped his little foot down. ****  
** **

“Ooh, I’m so threatened.” ****  
** **

Dick rolled his eyes. Bruce adjusted his tie, and got one knee to the child’s level. “Long story short, you are not attending the meeting.” It’d be funny as hell, but Dick was still young and Bruce needed at least a semblance of respect to stop the board from doing something stupid, like working with LexCorp or cutting down the Amazon Forest, or something. ****  
** **

Five minutes later Dick sat in his lap happily coloring as the board of directors slowly began resembling eggplants. ****  
** **

“Mr. Wayne,” Mr. Bigot breathed, a strained smile spread on his itchy red face, an allergic reaction to Dick’s Cuteness and bubblegum shampoo. “As we were discussing, we believe it would be beneficial for Wayne Enterprises to expand our property—” ****  
** **

“No.” Bruce said, scruffing up Dick’s hair slightly while spinning lightly on his chair.The board sputtered. ****  
** **

“What, you honestly don’t think cutting down the Amazon Forest would cause any problems? The environmental effects, displaced animals, homeless indigenous peoples? We literally had a fundraiser about this last week. ” Bruce came into the meeting expecting to talk about his plans of reforming mental health facilities in Gotham so that patients would, I don’t know, _not_ became supervillains? ****  
** **

“Not to mention the protesters,” Dick added, the only competent person in the entire room. Bruce wondered if it was ethical to have his almost eight year old head the board of directors. ****  
** **

While gazing at the board of directors angrily inquire why they couldn’t just buy the Amazon Rain Forest, Bruce decided it was. ****  
** **

* * *

 

“Bruce Wayne,” Jim Gordon said tiredly, Bruce quickly whipping around in the darkened office. ****  
** **

“Commissioner Gordon,” Bruce stated respectfully, reaching his hand to shake before aborting and deciding to salute instead. ****  
** **

“Hand down, kid. I witnessed your punk phase, remember.” Bruce shuddered at dreadful memories of The Mullet and his chest revealing clothes. Hopefully Dick would never experience the same thing. ** **  
****

“I actually wanted to ask you about something,” Bruce began, intimidated by the presence of an Actual Adult **™** . He leaned down on a desk, slipping down and knocking over a stack of papers, scattering about the floor. Leaning down to pick them up, he bumped into a cup of pens and other assorted writing devices, knocking them down as well. Bruce wanted to jump outside the window. Jim sighed and sank into a well-worn chair, body hurting by him literally carrying The Entire City of Gotham on his back. For he was one of the only competent and well-adjusted people in Gotham and he, Alfred, Leslie, and Lucius all met for brunch once a week to shit-talk Bruce and his vigilantism and share cute pictures of Dick and Barbara. ****  
** **

“Talk. I’m still tired from the drug-bust.” Jim Gordon had just saved an entire building of people without resorting to dressing up as a bat, with just his wits and Gotham's strange fondness for this strange man who was somehow mentally stable and had more brain cells than the entire city combined, who didn't respond to his problems with smoke bombs and a sexy aesthetic. How preposterous. ****  
** **

“Well, Dick will be starting Gotham Academy soon,” Bruce started quickly. “And his English has improved much, but he’s still not…” ****  
** **

“Still not accepted by high society?” Jim added. Bruce nodded. ****  
** **

“I know, you have a daughter, so how can I...make him have friends?” ****  
** **

“Well, first thing, you can’t make him have friends,” Jim advised. “You can’t force friendship.” Bruce nodded, briefly taking a pen from the floor and writing it on his arm. Jim would’ve stared were he not a Gothamite. ****  
** **

“Kid’s skipped two grades, right?” Jim asked. ****  
** **

“He’s very smart,” Bruce praised. Dick, in his eyes, had a real superpower; the ability to look totally innocent as he stabbed you right in your back, and for you to forgive him anyway because he was just precious like that. ****  
** **

“Barbara will be in the same grade as him them. I could tell her to look out for him, she won’t care about his past. She likes gymnastics, they can flip together or something.” ****  
** **

“I thought you said you can’t force friendships?” ****  
** **

“You can’t. They meet, they’ll hit it off or they won’t. Just be there for him, and support him if he’s getting trouble. Now please leave.” ****  
** **

Bruce wouldn't be told twice.

* * *

The third time produced a pattern, but Bruce was late and Alfred was sick, so he had no choice. ** **  
****

Dick, bless his heart, was bouncing on his toes, a smile so big it rivaled the Jokers, except cuter and less homicidal. His dark sunglasses rested on his little nose. ****  
** **

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” he tugged on Batman’s hand, urging him out of the cave. Bruce’s cowl was down. He needed to attend a (boring) Justice League meeting, and he couldn’t leave Dick home alone, for he was a feral child who would definitely climb the chandelier and then break it and it would all somehow be Bruce’s fault. ****  
** **

“You’ve already met Clark,” Bruce repressed a shiver at the mention of Clark and his Midwestern Goodness, ”and Diana.” This time Bruce felt something akin to honor and fear at the Amazonian war princess.  ****  
** **

Dick clutched his leg once more like an adorable and apple juice drinking parasite. “I already _know_ Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana but now I get to meet everyone else. Like Black Canary and Flash and Aquaman and Green Lantern and—“ ****  
** **

“Don’t say it-” ****  
** **

“And the other white Green Lantern—” ****  
** **

Bruce swallowed down his digested breakfast and silently called to Gabby, one of the bats who shat on Jordan’s head not too long ago. He wondered if 26 was too young for cardiac arrest. Dick stopped, and put his tiny hand on his equally tiny chin. He turned around dramatically, casually standing on his head. ****  
** **

“Now, Brucie,” he mused. “I am aware of my cuteness, Mami told me every day, but you must learn to control your urges around the cooler superheroes.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Bruce grumbled dryly. ****  
** **

“When I hurt my leg you bought reserved me an entire amusement park.” ****  
** **

“I don’t recall that.” ****  
** **

“Hmph.” ****  
** **

Walking into the room was so incredibly surreal to the present Leaguers that they all collectively wondered if a hallucinogen was filtered through the air vents. Because Mr. Tall Dark and Emo was holding the hand of a rosy cheeked, wavy haired little boy, with a smile brighter than the sun itself. It was like if the demon from the Conjuring showed up carrying Boo from Monsters Inc. ****  
** **

“Batman, why is there a baby with you?” Hal asked, flinching at Batman’s disgusted glare. ****  
** **

“I’m not a baby, I’m almost eight years old!” Dick retorted, deflecting the answer and growing stronger as he absorbed the Love of those around him. Clark looked on like a tearful mother while Diana frantically looked for a camera, for this was the 2000’s and iPhones were not a thing yet. ****  
** **

“They can talk at this age?” ****  
** **

Batman sat down unceremoniously, and Dick briefly stood on one hand on his broad shoulders, before dropping in his lap and giggling like a cherub with secret, sadistic tendencies. Clark cleared his throat. “To begin the meeting, I think the League must become more approachable to the public. There’s this new website recently established, called Facebook I believe.” ****  
** **

Now Dick was a very smart baby, and used this time to observe those around on the pretense of being an adorable child (which he was.) Clark and Diana kept smiling at him, of course. Dinah, he noticed, kept trying to meet his eyes, and winked at him. He smiled, recognizing her as one of the more skilled members of the League. Unlike Bruce, who couldn’t operate a toaster. ****  
** **

(“Infernal device,” Bruce seethed one breakfast morning at the toaster, Dick eating a nutritious breakfast of yogurt, oats, and berries as Alfred’s culinary heart broke. Alfred internally winced as Bruce tossed the wretched machine away. ****  
** **

He hoped someday one child would make him proud, tentatively placing hope unto little Richard. Little did he know, it would be a hardened and kind little street rat who would truly carry on the butler’s cooking legacy. ****  
** **

But, I digress.) ****  
** **

Flash genuinely seemed interested in Dick, and made funny faces. Dick smiled beautifully and turned his head to the others. Because Dick was such a smart boy, he noticed Bruce’s annoyance and silent plea to leave. A natural extrovert Dick was, but felt merciful at the moment and Bruce would later give him ice cream and also hugs for being such a good boy. ****  
** **

Feigning drowsiness, he curled the great black cape over him, snuggling closer into the armored chest. A few minutes later Batman stood up as Hawkwoman and Diana were debating the most efficient ways to paralyze an opponent.  ****  
** **

And left. ****  
** **

Leaving an entire room of superheroes in a perpetual wtf mood that would saturate the air for months. ****  
** **

Bruce was surprised to see that Dick somehow did fall asleep, the little shit. Bruce couldn’t be mad when his eyelashes hit the apples of his cheeks like that.

* * *

“Um, Batman?” Flash asked, stopping in Central City. Flash briefly wondered if Batman was a meta, for the grass and flowers around Batman were dead and brown, while the ones around Flash were still green and vibrant. ****  
** **

Batman’s cape covered his entire body. “I hear you have a nephew.” ****  
** **

“Hmm? Oh yeah! Well not nephew really, Iris and I are just dating, but I already love him. He’s this cute little redhead, nine or ten.” ****  
** **

“I know.” ****  
** **

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Now Batman actually liked Barry. He was casual and goofy, but also kind-hearted and respectful of Bruce’s space. But Bruce had poor social skills, probably because he watched his parents die when he was eight and never went to therapy, so he didn’t know an appropriate way to befriend the speedster. ****  
** **

“Maybe you should...introduce him,” Batman said, implying ****  
** **

  1. That little boy was Batman’s SON.
  2. That Batman was offering to reveal his identity and that he wasn’t just a sentient blob of darkness and angst. ** **  
****



As Flash balked, Batman slipped into the shadows (???how did he do that???it was sunny???) and Flash decided to give Iris and his therapist a call. ****  
** **

* * *

 

The fourth time couldn’t be ignored. ****  
** **

Bruce was once again attempting to calm Dick for bed-time, while thinking of the latest off-world mission the Justice League would endure. Dick kept giggling like an imp in his little Superman pajamas, which he loved because Bruce always got a popping vein in his forehead whenever he wore it. ****  
** **

Finally, Bruce (actually a single look from Alfred, the true boss of Wayne Manor) tucked the child in. Dick’s cheeks were red from exertion and his dark curls flopped messily over his forehead, a wide smile underlying just a hint of mischief. Bruce’s tie was undone and his shirt was haphazardly buttoned, but he dutily clutched a book in his hands.  ****  
** **

“Alfred’s gonna be much better at tucking you in after I leave,” Bruce teased goodnaturedly. Dick’s smile slipped off his face. ****  
** **

“What?” ****  
** **

“Oh, I thought I told you,” Bruce said. “I’ll be going off-world on a League meeting. I’ll be gone for a week.” Dick’s ( _bluebluebluebluerthanthesky)_ eyes grew bigger and bigger, and he slowly started shaking his head back and forth. ****  
** **

“No, no no no!” Dick cried, voice steadily growing in volume, ripping off his bed covers. “No, you can’t go, you can’t!” He was near screaming, voice rasping slightly at the end. ****  
** **

“Woah, Dickie,” Bruce calmed, confused. “I’ve been on missions before, and you’ve been fine.” ****  
** **

Dick kept shaking his head, and Bruce noticed the child had started hyperventilating. “No no no no you can’t go, you can’t go!” Dick’s small fingers were digging into his palms. Bruce slowly unclenched the little hands, holding it firmly with his own. ****  
** **

Dick started crying, choosing to bury his head into Bruce’s chest, and Bruce’s heart _fucking broke._ “You’ll _leave_ , just like Mami, a-and Tati, and—” The boy was near undecipherable through the hiccups and sobs. ****  
** **

“Shhhh, Dickie,” Bruce consoled, wrapping his arms tightly around the too tiny boy. He racked his brain for something to say, but Bruce was at a lost. “I won’t go, okay? It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” Dick was still crying a little. His nose was running and he wiped it one Bruce’s shirt. Bruce didn’t chide him, focusing on comforting the shivering child in his lap. ****  
** **

Bruce felt a deep voice, within him screaming to _protect-love-comfort._ He wanted to help the child. He wanted to find the hurt and make it better and make sure Dick would **never** have to experience anything that would make him cry like that ever again. To bundle him up safe and warm and put him right beside his heart. ****  
** **

Nothing would be more important than his s— ****  
** **

His kid. Nothing would be more important than his kid. ****  
** **

After Dick tuckered himself out, Bruce placed the gently breathing child back on the bed. It was sobering to see the usual hyperactive, mischievous child still and quiet, tear tracks still visible on his thin skin. ****  
** **

Bruce decided a meeting with Doctor Leslie would be appropriate. ****  
** **

“Bruce?” she asked once he arrived at her office, quickly closing one of her emails from The Bruce Wayne Bashing Book Club. “Is Dick hurt? Is he taking his PTSD medication?” She looked as she always did, short and wary with strands of white hair falling out of her bun. ****  
** **

Bruce cringed. “No. I mean yes about the medication. No about him being hurt. I don’t know.” Leslie nodded understandingly and motioned for him to sit down. ****  
** **

“It was really obvious tonight, but this has been going for about a month now,” Bruce explained. “Dick’s an independent child, but lately he’s been so clingy. He wants me to stay with him when he goes to sleep, tags along on meetings, and started _crying_ when I told him I was going to be leaving.” ****  
** **

“Does Dick usually throw temper tantrums?” Leslie asked, picking up a clipboard. Bruce quickly shook his head. ****  
** **

“No, Dick doesn’t throw tantrums. He grew up in a caravan, he could find entertainment in a box. He gets these...” Bruce licked his lips. “He gets these breakdowns sometimes. He’ll be smiling and jumping and then sobbing the next minute. And that’s what happened tonight. I mean I’ve been out of town before, but tonight…” Bruce trailed off.

"He is a child dealing with a terrible loss," Leslie mused. "Breakdowns and mood swings are predictably behavior." “I have a thought, though,” Leslie stated. Bruce perked up. “It’s not something easy to remedy, though.”

She sat down. “Dick has separation anxiety, Bruce.” ****  
** **

“What?” ****  
** **

She sighed. “Separation anxiety. The poor thing lost his parents less than a year ago, at an age where children don’t usually think about their parents leaving. He understands now that that is a possibility, for the people who are supposed to take care of you to leave. ” ****  
** **

Bruce’s batty brain was still confused. The World’s Greatest Detective indeed. “But, I’ve left before, and he’s been completely fine. Why is now different?” ****  
** **

Leslie shrugged. “His relationship with you has changed. Before he was still recovering from his parents, but now you’re the one taking care of him. Children naturally are drawn towards parental figures; it’s how they survive. The difference between then and now is now, he’s accepted, at least internally, that you’re his parent. Face it Bruce, you’re a dad.” ****  
** **

Bruce looked down, puzzle pieces fitting together in his mind. He thought of Dick, and his big wide brain and teary blue eyes, and found that it wasn’t hard to imagine being Dick’s father. ****  
** **

_Father_ . Brucie Wayne, at 26, who punched villains and saved the world, held late night Galas and flirted with models and— ****  
** **

And stayed up late with Dick when he had nightmares. Who bought parenting books, and took Dick to the circus every other week. Who worried about Dick, and whether he was happy or eating or sleeping. Who kissed his black curls every night and blew a raspberry into the chubby cheeks just to hear the disgusted giggles. ****  
** **

That Brucie Wayne. ****  
** **

His jaw set. “What can we do?” ****  
** **

“The most important thing is to let him know you’re here now,” she started. “You can’t just stay with him forever, but gradually he can calm if you call him once in a while, have Alfred keep tabs on you. Spend time together.” ****  
** **

Bruce nodded. ****  
** **

“Also, therapy.” ****  
** **

“Dick already has a therapist,” Bruce explained, an eccentric, wisecracking older man who liked Star Wars and was a spitfire leader during the Gotham Civil Rights Movement. ****  
** **

Leslie shook her head. “Not for him, for _you._ ” Bruce balked. Leslie shook her finger in his dumb rich face. ****  
** **

“Bruce, you can’t help heal a child if you can’t heal yourself,” she began. “Every once in a while, just come to me, or Alfred, or Lucius and _talk_ .” ****  
** **

Bruce was silent, contemplating jumping through the window. ****  
** **

“At least for Dick.” She looked pained. ****  
** **

Bruce sighed. “I’ll think about it,” he half-lied. Dick was his priority. ****  
** **

The next night, at bed-time, Bruce vowed to talk to Dick. ****  
** **

“And that’s when Superman told me I’ve been pronouncing quinoa wrong for like, fifteen years,” Bruce complained. “Nobody told me I’ve been pronouncing it wrong. Nobody. I’ve said quinoa in front of prime ministers, Dick. Prime ministers.” Dick giggled, for he was not a haggard white (Jewish-ish) man like Bruce was. Besides, Auntie Kate was the one who made the best latkes during the Wayne Hannukah celebration, anyway. ****  
** **

Bruce quieted down a bit, reclined on the plush bed. He flicked Dick’s itty bitty nose, who scrunched it up adorably. Like a baby kitten. ****  
** **

“Dickie,” Bruce began, ”we gotta have a grown up talk.” Dick nodded as he was a fellow grown-up, of course, looking prim and serious in his elephant pajamas. ****  
** **

“I’m not going on the League mission,” Dick relaxed, “but I’ll be going on the next one.” Dick sat up, expression becoming pained. ****  
** **

“No, no, no, _please,”_ he said. His eyes filled with tears. Bruce picked him up (he was lighter than his teddy bear) and placed him on his lap. ****  
** **

“I’ll call you as often as I can, and Alfred will keep tabs, chum,” he tried to console to the distressed boy. “Come on, help me out here.” ****  
** **

Dick took a shuddering breath, looking up. His lips were trembling and his eyelashes were damp with tears. Bruce almost quit his job right at the moment (vaguely, he wondered if there was an invention that would make Dick stay a baby forever.) ****  
** **

“I,” his voice shook, sniffing once. Twice. “ _What if you go, and, and don’t come back_?” He had reverted to Romani while crying, bringing him a slight comfort. Bruce didn’t wanna be the asshole that said ‘well of course I could die, dummy, there's a possibility of that every time I go to the grocery store.’ He had to be gentle. ** **  
****

“I’ll be wearing an armored suit, and I have literally an entire team of invulnerable superheroes around me,” he comforted. Dick was still crying a little. ****  
** **

“I don’t _care_ about them,” Dick said. “I care about you.” Bruce was temporarily struck by how paternal their position was. Dick's cheek was pressed just over Bruce's heartbeat, his red-rimmed eyes staring up at Bruce, looking for comfort and reassurance. The child should never had to grow up in a world where he doubted he wouldn't be loved,  _never_. ****  
** **

And what struck him even more was how natural it was.

“I care about you too, chum,” Bruce reassured. “And I’ll be thinking of you the entire time. It’s different this time.” ****  
** **

“Why?" ****  
** **

“Because now I actually have a reason to go home.” ****  
** **

And it was true, because a year ago Bruce couldn’t even imagine that there would be someone he would move mountains for, but one wayward circus act proved him wrong.

"Really?" Dick asked, eyes growing wider.

"Of course, chum," Bruce said. "You're a little shit and you've caused me all my grey hairs, but I need someone to keep me young, don't I? Hmm?" He poked the child's side slightly, producing a hint of a giggle.

Dick grew silent. He sat up and looked at Bruce, eyes fierce and blue. He placed his tiny hands on Bruce’s shoulders. ****  
** **

“If there is even a _possibility_ of you dying, you call Uncle Clark right away and make him save you,” Dick said firmly. Bruce hesitated. “Promise!” ****  
** **

“I will do everything I can to come back alive,” Bruce said. “Everything.” ****  
** **

Dick exhaled, releasing tension he didn’t know he had. For several minutes he reclined on Bruce’s lap, tired from his crying. ****  
** **

“Bruce,” Dick said quietly, when Bruce thought he had went to sleep. “It’s not like—I mean you’re not, but—I mean you’re not my dad, but if you were—” ****  
** **

He paused. ****  
** **

“You’d be a good one.” ****  
** **

Bruce hugged the child. “Thank you, chum.” ****  
** **

Dick still looked a bit troubled. He opened his mouth. ****  
** **

“And that, I love you.” ****  
** **

Dick’s mouth trembled. He buried his face into Bruce’s side, hurt and sad and wanting his dad to make it all better. ****  
** **

_“A lot,”_ he half-cried, voice whimpering. ****  
** **

Bruce hugged him tighter. “I love you too, Dickie.” ****  
** **

And he did, more than anything. ****  
** **

The next morning, Bruce sat with his head in his hands as Alfred dutifully made breakfast, since Bruce and by extension Dick were not allowed in the kitchen after The Toaster Incident. ****  
** **

“I don’t know what to do,” Bruce confessed into his hands, as Alfred placed a cup of coffee in front of him. ****  
** **

“Most parents do not,” Alfred responded calmly, now dusting a flowervase while thinking of embarrassing baby stories of Bruce. (A cherished memory was when a toddler Bruce Wayne decided to take all his clothes off and dance in front of a foreign ambassador, as Thomas Wayne chased after him and Martha Wayne rushed to find a camera.) ****  
** **

“I’m gonna mess him up,” Bruce breathed, leaning at the back of the chair. ****  
** **

“No child could ever be as bizarre as you are, Master Bruce.” ****  
** **

Bruce let out Grunt #3 “Mrhngh” at that cutting remark. ****  
** **

“Master Dick will do just fine, I believe,” Alfred confessed. “He just needs someone there for him. Will you be there for him, Master Bruce?” ****  
** **

“Of course,” Bruce scoffed, more to himself, because if he showed any disrespect to Alfred he would Die. ****  
** **

“Then that should be enough,” Alfred finished. A veteran Alfred was, he’s worried for fellow soldiers, to the bleeding-hearted Waynes, to a struggling Bruce, and now a happy child with more than a few of his own demons. ****  
** **

“That should be enough,” Alfred said quietly to himself later when the dust had settled, seeing Bruce carefully card his fingers through Dick’s black hair.  ****  
** **

And for once, Alfred's wizened heart believed it. **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> HEYY I LOVE U sorry for being inactive but i am enjoying myself in pakistan :) ALSO did u all know that native pakistanis pronounce the j in spanish words??? they say words like jalapeño and mojito with the hard j bc hispanic culture isn't common like it is in the states and its SO CUTE also my mom won an award bc she volunteers at a cancer program sorry to f l e x on yall but my mom is legally a superhero
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT ON MY DISASTER FIC I LOVE THEM AKFJNFKAN I WILL CRY DONT TEST ME


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